


Merge

by zelda_zee



Series: Golden State [3]
Category: Lost
Genre: Alternate Universe, California, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack wakes up beside James in the wine country inn where they'd stopped for a night.</p><p>Originally posted for the 2007 Lost Luau.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merge

Jack wakes to the unaccustomed feeling of sheets silky-soft against his skin, a firm mattress beneath him and, strangest of all, another body in the bed, pressed warmly to his back. He sighs, opening his eyes to white curtains blowing in the breeze, earth-toned walls, a woven rug covering hardwood floors. Outside he can see bright blue sky, vineyards stretching to hills of gold-hued grass, a hump-topped mountain in the distance that the innkeeper had said was Mt. St. Helena.

Jack feels contentment seeping down into his bones, a deep wellspring of ease and a sort of bodily peace that he hasn’t felt in a long time. Everything feels _right_ , from his rested, relaxed awakening to the gentle wind caressing his skin, to the slight, steady movement of Sawyer’s – no, _James’_ \- chest against his back as he breathes in and out, the tickle of his fingers where they rest low on Jack’s belly, the hardness of James’ morning erection pressing against his ass and suddenly Jack has to move, needs to turn around and see James there beside him in the bed.

He is lying on his side, his hair covering his face so that all Jack can see is his mouth. Jack stares at his lips, his stubble-lined jaw, the sweep of muscle from his neck to his distinctly-sloping shoulders. He can see the bullet scar, physical proof of their shared past, a past that seems impossibly distant as they lay here in cushioned comfort, snug and pampered in this luxuriously rustic wine country inn. But it had been real, it had all really happened, and nothing proves it as definitively as James’ mere presence here with him. If it hadn’t all been real, he and James would never have met, would not be here now.

Does that make it worth it? When he thinks of the deaths, of those who were not as lucky as the two of them, he could never answer in the affirmative. He’d sacrifice anything to get them back, to see Shannon roll her eyes at Boone, to watch Charlie grow into his role with Claire and Aaron, to see Ana Lucia’s sardonic grin one more time. But as he lays beside James, watching him sleep, he thinks he would gladly go through his own personal pain – the helplessness and self-doubt, the heartache and the misery - if he knew this would be the end result.

“I can hear those wheels turnin’,” mumbles James. He turns his head up to look at Jack, pushing his hair back. “You thinkin’ Deep Thoughts there, Jack Handey?”

Jack smiles. He can’t resist reaching out to touch James’ face, running his fingers along his jaw, down his neck, over his chest to his nipple and brushing back and forth over it until it stands to a hard point.

“Not too deep,” Jack says. “About you, mostly.”

“Me?” James’ voice hitches when Jack squeezes and tugs. “What about - me? _Oh fuck_.”

“That feel good?” Jack asks, ignoring James’ question.

“I – yeah – fuck,” James arches into Jack’s touch as he adds a twist. “I’m – _oh_ – I’m kinda sensitive there.”

“Good,” Jack murmurs. "I like that." He shifts his hand to the other nipple and bends his head to tongue the first one. “You’re kinda sensitive everywhere. I like that too.”

“I’m not,” James denies indignantly, lifting his head to glare at Jack. “Not any more than anybody else.”

“Whatever you say,” concedes Jack, sucking on James’ nipple and pinching the other one, smiling when James’ head slams back to the pillow and his hips jerk up, encountering only the bedclothes. Jack pushes them aside because what he really wants is an unimpeded view of the miles and miles of tanned skin and firm muscle and pale, golden hair that are spread out on top of the soft, white sheets of their bed. It's all somehow, suddenly _his_ and he wants to drink it all in, try to convince himself that it's real.

He runs a hand possessively over James’ stomach, pausing to circle his navel, then following the line of light, silky hair downwards, his thumb brushing back and forth through it. James’ cock is beautifully hard, flushed and straining upward. It gives a twitch when Jack’s hand reaches it, but he detours around and down James’ thigh, feeling the muscles quiver under his palm.

James is watching him through dark, half-closed eyes, breathing fast. When Jack pulls his leg to the side, spreading him wider, James’ eyes fall closed and he bites his lip. Jack thinks he’s trying to keep it inside, trying to hide what he feels after Jack’s comment about being sensitive. _Well_ , Jack thinks. _We’ll just see about that._

He moves his hand up James’ thigh to his balls and then behind them, tracing slow circles around his hole, pressing on it without pushing inside. They hadn’t done this last night, when they fell into bed, drunk on a day’s worth of sunshine and wind and wine, trading sloppy kisses and even sloppier blow jobs. He doesn’t know if James will do this, but he wants it, wants to be inside him. He needs it, for James to take him in. To _let_ him in. And if he won’t, then Jack will roll over for him, happily, eagerly. Jack doesn’t know why he wants it so badly this way first, he just does. Given their history, it could seem like a bid for dominance, but he’d swear it isn’t. It isn’t anything so simple and uncomplicated as that. 

He kisses his way up to James’ ear, his hips pressed tight to James’ leg.

“Want you,” he whispers. “Want to fuck you.” He licks the shell of his ear, nips at the lobe. “God, James. Please.”

James turns to look at him, and Jack feels a thrill shoot through him at the heat in his gaze, his pupils blown so wide there’s barely a scant ring of blue around them.

“Well… since you ask so nice. I wouldn’t wanna deny you.” His voice is rough and his words are joking, but the look on his face is serious.

Jack reaches for the nightstand, for the lube he’d bought yesterday with just this hope in mind. James lays with his eyes closed while Jack slicks his fingers, but when he touches him, rubbing gently then sliding a finger inside, they fly open and he looks almost startled, staring at the ceiling for a moment, then his eyes flicking down to Jack. Jack leans forward over him as he pushes his finger inward, watching arousal darken James’ skin, tinting it rosy beneath the tan. Jack finger-fucks him smoothly, watching his face, watching his control weaken, bit by tiny bit. He slides a second finger in, slow, searching, until he feels what he’s looking for and then he stays right there, fingertips playing over it until James breaks, until he arches up with a ragged groan, spreading his legs as wide as he can.

 _God, yes,_ thinks Jack. _That’s what I want. Just like that._

But he doesn’t say anything, he just closes the distance between them, kissing James hard and dirty, fucking his mouth with his tongue in the same rhythm as his fingers fuck into his ass and James kisses him back, holding on for dear life and moaning into the kiss, pulling back to gasp for air and then crying out sharply when Jack bites down on the juncture of neck and shoulder, sucking up a mouthful of flesh. It’s going to bruise and he knows that Sawy - _James_ will be pissed at him later, but right now he’s writhing beneath him and making the sexiest fucking sounds, pushing back insistently onto his fingers, so Jack doesn’t worry too much about later.

He moves down James’ body, trailing kisses, marveling - _Sawyer, this is Sawyer_ \- as his lips touch his belly, tongue tasting salt, making a circle and a dip into his navel and eliciting a shuddery sigh.

“Fuck, Jack,” James pants. “Jack, I - _ohhh_ \- Jack, I can’t - _ahhh_ -” as Jack slides his lips over the head of James' cock, adding a third finger, corkscrewing them in and out as he bobs his head over the length of James’ dick. Jack looks up the long sweep of James’ body, wanting to take in his responses to what he’s doing. James' hands are gripping the headboard, his head pressed back into the pillows, his stomach rippling as he rocks up into Jack’s mouth, pushes down onto his fingers. Breathless groans fall from his lips in a steady stream and through the haze of his own arousal Jack congratulates himself on opting for one of the little bungalows that dot the grounds rather than a room in the inn, because James is _loud_.

“Jack,” James gasps. “Jack. Oh. Fuck. You gotta stop – c’mon Jack,” he pushes at Jack’s head and Jack pulls back with a wet _pop_. “I’m gonna come if you don’t.”

“So?” says Jack, wriggling his fingers against James' prostate and watching his eyes close, his lips part. “Come.”

“I want – I want –” James’ eyelids flutter, but he can’t keep them open, can’t finish his thought. Jack feels a surge of pride, to have rendered him speechless.

Jack straightens up a bit. “You want to come with me inside you?”

“Oh God,” James breathes. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” agrees Jack.

James starts to turn over onto his stomach, but Jack pins his hip to the mattress and keeps him as he is, moving in closer as he slicks up. James raises his eyebrows in question and Jack shakes his head. He’s never been so sure of anything in his life as he is of needing to be able to look into James’ face when they fuck for the first time.

“Like this, okay?” He leans over James, waiting for him to acquiesce. “I want to see you, James.” James’ eyes lock onto his at the use of his name. “You could be on top, if you want.”

“No,” says James, shifting his hips impatiently. “This‘s good. Just get the hell on with it.”

Jack’s lip twitches in a smile. _He sounds so much like Sawyer_ , and then, _well, he is Sawyer_. He can’t keep it straight, Sawyer, James, merging and separating, and now, as he lays his body out on top of James’ and slowly pushes inside him, it's both of them, both at once, and as he looks into James’ blue eyes, seeing him stripped bare by pleasure, both too strong to allow for anything to stand in the way, he thinks maybe he sees the new man, the one he knows so well, but who is still a mystery to him.

“J – James,” he gasps, pushing deeper, one hand braced on the bed, clutching a handful of sheet, the other on James’ ass, fingers digging in, urging him up. James wraps his legs around Jack’s waist, tilts his hips and Jack shudders as he sinks in that much more, until he can’t go any farther, and they lie still, panting, James’ muscles clenched so tightly around him it’s all Jack can do not to come.

Jack pries his eyes open – at some point he’d squeezed them shut – to find James watching him, his eyes hooded and unreadable. “Jack,” he says, just that, his voice rough as sandpaper. “Jack.”

Jack knows what he's thinking. _This can’t be real_. It can’t be, and yet nothing has ever felt more real in his life.

He moves, thrusts as gently as he can, and James bucks beneath him, his deep groan drawing an answering one out of Jack. He tries to go slow, but James is having none of it, hands pulling and pushing, hips rocking faster and faster, incoherent growls and grunts making Jack lose control, drive in harder until he's pounding into him and James has to reach up and grab the headboard again to brace himself.

He tilts his head back, the line of his throat too inviting for Jack to ignore. He pushes James' legs back farther and bends forward to lick and bite, the staccato beat of James pulse dancing beneath his tongue.

“ _Ohfuckyeah_ ," James' voice twists the words around stuttering breaths. “Oh fuck, Jack, like that – yeah – _Jesusfuck_ – like that –”

James brings a hand down between them and wraps it around his cock, and Jack watches him stroke, three, four times before James cries out, a hoarse, strangled shout that sparks something hot inside Jack from his toes to his scalp. He can see James' cock jerk as it spurts again and again over his hand and stomach. James arches up high, his hips pinned by Jack’s weight, just the top of his head touching the bed and freezes, shuddering, his ass spasming around Jack’s cock, tight and hot and smooth and slick, making it impossible for him to hold back for even another second. Jack's body draws in on itself, awareness narrowing to his cock buried inside of James, to sweaty skin sliding against his, the smell of sex, heady and thick, the little whimpers that James is making, and it's too much, too good. He spills into James groaning his name, thrusting mindlessly again and again, trying to get deeper, closer, not enough, never enough, fucking through his orgasm and out the other side, until he collapses on top of James, gasping.

They lay still for a moment, small contented noises breathed into each other’s skin. It’s unbelievably sweet, and Jack just lets it wash over him, doesn’t fight the urge to give in to whatever this is that’s between them.

When Jack's mind clears a bit, he eases out but stays close, lying between James' thighs and feeling his body slacken, his breathing return to normal. James’ hand rubs idly over his hair, brushing the short bristles back and forth. Jack runs his fingertips over the exposed skin of James’ thigh where it’s lying open, between his legs where it’s slick and wet. James exhales a surprised _oh_ when Jack’s fingers find his hole, rubbing over its swollen heat and he whines, languidly rolling his hips, when Jack slips one inside. Jack is tempted to see if he can work him up again, but instead he kisses him, losing himself in the sated, sex-lazy joining of lips and tongues and breath. When he rolls away finally, to let the breeze dry the sweat on his skin, they still touch, feet and hands just brushing against each other.

For a long time neither of them speaks. What is there to say that hasn’t just been said?

Jack didn’t expect it to be like this. When he and Sawyer – because he was Sawyer at the time – had pointed their bikes north outside that bar in Salinas he hadn’t known what to expect, and even if a part of him had known, had suspected that there were undercurrents between them that were finally going to be acted upon, he never would have anticipated anything so raw and undeniable and fucking terrifying as this.

“You okay?” asks James, his voice scratchy. He clears his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah. Good.” Jack tries to sound sure, but he doesn’t do a very good job of it.

James rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand. He reaches out and runs his fingers through the hair on Jack’s chest, pulling on it a bit. “This’s good, right?” he asks, not looking at Jack.

“Yes,” says Jack, turning toward him. “It’s good.”

“It’s weird though.”

“Yeah.” Jack sighs, “It’s weird.”

He wonders what James is feeling. When they were fucking it was as if he could read James perfectly, but now he’s a mystery again. A memory comes to him, unbidden, of himself and Sawyer, standing close together, doing something… loading weapons maybe, and Sawyer telling him in a strange fit of honesty that Jack was the closest thing he had to a friend, and how the close confines of the tent suddenly became uncomfortably intimate. The memory makes him sad and happy at the same time and this time when he meets James' eyes he sees Sawyer as well, the man who was both his adversary and his friend, now unexpectedly something much more.

“It’ll be okay,” he says, lacing his fingers with James’. “You’ll see. We just have to get used to it.” He smiles reassuringly when James nods at him. “The hardest part’s already behind us.”

"Damn well better be," James replies. "I ain't prepared to go through anything worse than Craphole Island in this lifetime."

"Ever since we got out I wondered," Jack says, searching carefully for the right words, "if anything good would come out of it all. If there was just one single thing I could point to and say, _At least there's this one good thing that came from it. At least I have this._ And now I know. This is it, James."

"Aw, Jack," James says. "Who'd a thought you're such a romantic?"But he's holding Jack's eyes, and Jack knows that even though he won't admit it, James was looking for that too.


End file.
